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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484117">from your point of view</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs'>spideysmjs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all thots, head full [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Few Peter Parker Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Peter Parker is a thot, Peter Parker is an idiot, Porn with Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:35:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“This is hard, Peter!” she throws her hands in the air, frustrated. He thinks he can see tears welling in her eyes as she quickly turns her head away from him. “No matter how many times it happens.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“MJ,” he whispers, trying.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Sometimes, I think it gets harder every time it does.”</em>
</p>
<p>Or, Peter wonders what it's like to love someone like him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all thots, head full [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Peter Parker's Thotumn 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>from your point of view</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/gifts">coykoi</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by 'pov' by Ariana Grande. </p>
<p>Jill, this is for you! ♥</p>
<p>(Proofreading? Not me).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Peter hears is the sound of a steady monitor. He sees a fluorescent, bright room. </p>
<p>He remembers falling to the ground from a shot in the leg. He remembers looking up at Kingpin, an evil smile curling at the corner of his lips. Then, a head bash to the ground before waking up here. </p>
<p>MJ’s sitting at the corner of the room, scooped in the armchair as she snores lightly to herself, a book faces down on her chest with her thumb still tucked in where she left off. </p>
<p>His eyes feel heavy like he could go for more hours of rest. So he does, drifting away – the last image in his eyes now MJ, waiting for him to wake. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, kid.” </p>
<p>Peter blinks his eyes, less tired than the last time he remembers waking up. The room is full, Tony Stark waking him up with concerned eyes and May standing up from the seat where he last saw MJ, rushing to Peter’s side. </p>
<p>He sits up, his weakness reminding him that his body is still in the process of healing. “Hey.”</p>
<p>“Pretty nasty beat. Your vitals are reading better and better each day, though,” Tony explains, always pacing around the room, spinning his body once before facing Peter and saying, “You’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. I feel fine,” Peter says. </p>
<p>“No patrol for the next few days,” May says. </p>
<p>“May I–”</p>
<p>“Peter.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” he relents, shoulders deflating as he winces from the sudden jerk of his bones. </p>
<p>MJ walks through the door, arms crossed in her favorite gray sweater as she says, “I’ll take care of him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”</p>
<p>“MJ,” Peter says, smiling. “You’re here.”</p>
<p>She approaches him, both May and Tony making room as she sits at the edge of Peter’s bed. “I’ve been here all week, silly.”</p>
<p>“A week?!” Peter asks. Whatever he did wrong during his meeting with Kingpin, cost him a week of missing out on saving the city. “Did anything bad happen?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” May says. “My nephew got several concussions and was out cold for a week.”</p>
<p>A part of Peter’s heart aches. It’s the same chord that gets pulled whenever MJ finds him, body sprawled and bruised after a late night out. It’s no fun, and a look he’s all too used to seeing. He sighs. </p>
<p>“I’ll stay in, May. I promise.”</p>
<p>“You’re discharged today, kid. Take it easy,” Tony says. “There are other heroes around. Like me.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said bank robbers are out of your paygrade,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. </p>
<p>Tony shrugs. “A man can change.”</p>
<p>Peter sneaks MJ a glance, and she squints. He chuckles. “Thanks for your help, Tony.”</p>
<p>There’s a slew of silence hovering over them, the heart monitor displaying a steady pace. Peter looks at MJ, watches as she slowly stretches a tight-lip grin. He sees a new look in her eyes, one that undeniably radiates through Peter in a way that comforts him. It’s the look that comes after the worry, the look that says I’m glad you’re here. With me. </p>
<p>Me too. </p>
<p>“You’re all packed up,” MJ says, patting his thigh softly before bringing her hand to brush a strand of hair off Peter’s forehead. “We can leave when you’re ready.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go home, Em,” he whispers, suddenly realizing that they’re not the only two people in the room (or in this world). </p>
<p>She brushes her hand on his cheek one more time. “Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the ride home, MJ’s fingers are intertwined with Peter’s, the quiet engine driving through the streets of Upstate New York. Peter looks out the window, the autumn hues vibrant and orange against the overcast sky. Leaves are scattered on the sidewalks. The streets look damp. He lets the window down, inhaling the crisp air. </p>
<p>He doesn’t remember the last time he’s stopped to take nature in. To slow down time. When he’s holding MJ’s hand, time is easier because she squeezes it at the right moments, keeping him as grounded as he’ll ever be. </p>
<p>They don’t speak on the car ride. Maybe it’s because Happy’s blasting classical music and it’s calm and Peter doesn’t know what will happen if he starts word-vomiting about how stupid he was for getting injured so badly he needed a one-week visit to the facility. </p>
<p>He knows this week was MJ’s turbo study week for the LSAT. He remembers wishing her good luck on Day #1 of studying with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to try to stay safe. </p>
<p>You’d think Peter Parker is the type of person to break promises. He doesn’t do it on purpose. He has no control over them, and yet he sits in the back of the seat, cradled by his girlfriend and the crushing guilt of always letting her down. He hears her breath. In and out. Calm. Another hand squeeze. </p>
<p>She can’t possibly be okay with his 23748927th major incident of the year. </p>
<p>Well, fourth. Four too much, Peter thinks.</p>
<p>MJ takes a deep breath. “Ned wants to see you sometime. I said not tonight, though.”</p>
<p>Peter tilts his head. “Why did he want to come to see me tonight?”</p>
<p>“Other than him being your best friend?” MJ laughs, though the sparkle in her eyes are soft and teasing – a reminder that there are out there in Peter’s life who love him and want him to be okay. Ned is one of them. “It’s game board night.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” he says. “Even with my multiple concussions, I think I could take him in Battleship.”</p>
<p>“Pete,” she says, her voice firm like Peter should know he’s crossing a line. And he does because he feels the punch of guilt in his stomach when her eyes fall. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” he says. Happy clears his throat. The volume of the radio moves up by three. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”</p>
<p>He knows the topic of injuries is sensitive. He knows that with the few words MJ has said, she’s said enough of what she’s wanted to. Even with the firm grip of her voice, the warning beneath the call of his name, he knows nothing he can do will ever repay for the damage that MJ goes through every day as he swings out of their window. </p>
<p>The least he can do is stop making jokes. </p>
<p>If he’s being honest, it’s hard to walk away from your only coping mechanism. But if MJ can put herself through war every day being with him, he can and will do the little things that make the battles a little easier. </p>
<p>The GPS reads 45 minutes of time left. </p>
<p>Peter gets lost looking at the world outside the car, pine trees slowly dissipating as they approach the city and get into Queens – back into the normalcy of life after blacking out for a week. It always feels like a reset. Like a drunken night makes you forget all of the stupid things you say. </p>
<p>This is the fourth reset for Peter, the fourth blackout and he’s forgetting what it’s like to feel sober with the peace of mind that no villains will show up from the murky waters and surprise him. It’s only November. No promises that there won’t be a fifth, or maybe a sixth reset. </p>
<p>It’s not the reset that bothers him. For Peter, it feels like he can try again. Like he can erase the memory because the memory is already halfway gone. He’s healed. He’s better. What bothers him is the week of not knowing how other people – the people who love him – are looking at him. It’s the worry in their eyes that he doesn’t even want to picture, especially May’s. </p>
<p>He gets shivers down his spine. His muscles tense. MJ uses her free hand to rub his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Still kinda hurts,” he says. A lie. He doesn’t even know which part of his body hurt initially, other than his head. But his head is fine.</p>
<p>His heart is not. </p>
<p>He drifts to sleep hoping the tightness in his chest goes away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Happy,” Peter hears MJ’s voice. It’s groggy like she’d fallen asleep on his shoulders like she always does on their way home from the facility. Maybe one day it won’t be from a brutal injury, or maybe this is how it will be if she stays with him. He hopes she does, and then he wonders why she would, letting the dark thoughts consume him as he pushes himself from the backseat of the car. </p>
<p>“Bye Happy. Thank you,” Peter says. “I’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p>Happy smiles, a gentle offer. “Hopefully not under these conditions next time, okay, kid? Be careful.”</p>
<p>“You got it, Happy,” Peter smiles, his heart fond of the nickname that stuck despite being well into his early twenties. It’s a nice one. “Drive back safe.”</p>
<p>Peter rushes to the trunk to meet MJ, immediately grabbing her duffle from her. She lets him, but not without giving him a pointed look. He grins, taking the items anyway. </p>
<p>Halfway through their trek to the fifth floor of the building, MJ sighs, hands on her knees catching her breath in the middle of the flight of stairs while cursing the fact that they picked a place to live that didn’t have an elevator. </p>
<p>Peter, looking a lot less breathless than MJ, leans against the wall.“You know if there was an elevator in here, you wouldn’t take it anyway.” </p>
<p>“You’re right. Rent-controlled buildings typically don’t maintain their elevators. Do you ever look at the expired certificates?” </p>
<p>“Never,” Peter says, a proud huff escaping his breath like the idiot he accepts he is. </p>
<p>“Must be nice to be able to save yourself if an elevator collapses on you.” MJ begins to walk again, trailing forward. </p>
<p>Peter knows she doesn’t mean to hurt him with what she says. He knows that she’s honest, no matter what. And because he knows this, he stays quiet. He laughs the joke away, even if it hurts because he knows that what she’s gone through four times this year hurts more than any honest sentiment. </p>
<p>“Em,” he says, trying. They reach the fifth floor. It’s dim as it always is. More quiet than usual, though Peter knows they’re the loudest apartment in the entire building for more reasons than one. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>She looks back, already unlocking their front door. “It’s nothing.”</p>
<p>It’s everything.</p>
<p>“Em,” he repeats, more stern as he follows her into their home. “You know that–”</p>
<p>“Peter,” she drops her arms to her side, turning to face him. Their shared gaze is intense, sending shivers down Peter’s spine, unsure what kind of conversation they’ll get into tonight knowing that for all the times he’s come home injured, there’s been many that turn into heated arguments – both of them talking over each other rather than to each other. “Whatever you want to say, don’t say it.”</p>
<p>“That’s not fair.”</p>
<p>“No, it is fair, Peter. Because you know how this ends,” MJ says, dragging her feet across the apartment floor after kicking off her shoes. “And I just–” </p>
<p>She sighs. Peter asks, “You just what?”</p>
<p>“Never mind,” she returns, dropping on the couch. </p>
<p>“Please tell me,” he says, sitting on the other end, giving MJ space although all he craves is her touch, her touch that makes him feel safe. </p>
<p>She inches closer to him, leaving a tight space between them, both their thighs still clenched from caution. </p>
<p>“This is hard, Peter!” she throws her hands in the air, frustrated. He thinks he can see tears welling in her eyes as she quickly turns her head away from him. “No matter how many times it happens.”</p>
<p>“MJ…”</p>
<p>“Sometimes I think it gets harder every time it does.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he admits, eyes glued to the floor from being too afraid of what he might see if he looks at MJ. Afraid of what he might feel. Shame. Guilt. The little monsters pulling at his guts that want to convince him that at the end of the day, what they have can’t work out. </p>
<p>What if she thinks it’s too much? What if she doesn’t want to handle this anymore?</p>
<p>He opens his eyes from fighting back stupid tears, ones he doesn’t deserve to shed from hurting MJ the way he does every time he comes home broken and blue. He says, “I get it, you know.”</p>
<p>“What?” she asks, muffled as she buries her face in her hands. </p>
<p>“If you-um-what to opt out. Of this,” he rests the back of his head on their couch, eyes analyzing their popcorn ceiling. </p>
<p>“Wow,” she says. </p>
<p>“You have law school coming up,” he says. “You shouldn’t be distracted by me being an idiot.”</p>
<p>He pauses for a beat, waiting for her to joke around, for her to say, <em>Peter, you’re always an idiot, </em>before letting out a tight-lipped, toothless grin.</p>
<p>Instead, she’s quiet. Her face still in her hands. Her breath is heavy, and so is her heart as listens to its rate increase. She takes a deep breath. </p>
<p>He watches her lift her head up, wet trails dancing down her cheekbones, an uncontrollable force of nature. “If you think I’m going to leave you because you lost to one lousy supervillain, then I don’t know if you even know me, Peter.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for a br—”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you want that?” he asks, holding himself from scoffing knowing that, for as much as Peter’s upset at their conversation, MJ is right. </p>
<p>This isn’t fair for her. It’s more unfair for her than it is for him. He has superpowers. He can heal and the traumatic injuries are replaced by new ones when he swings throughout the city after his body repairs itself. </p>
<p>But sometimes, Peter thinks, MJ is the real superhero. His superhero. The one that saves him from falling through the cracks of insecurity while simultaneously holding him to the ground in a way that doesn’t blow up his ego, and, most of all, she continues to be by his side no matter how exhausting it gets. </p>
<p>She has super strength in her heart, in her mind, swimming in her soul as she looks directly into Peter’s like he’s made of glass. </p>
<p>He regrets asking his question, punishing himself mentally for allowing his worries to get the best of him. Yet, it’s too late. Peter can’t take back those words, knowing the hints of doubt in his voice will be etched in MJ’s head forever. The woman never forgets. </p>
<p>“You’re mean.”</p>
<p>His chest feels tight. “I-I didn’t mean to say…”</p>
<p>“But you did. Do you want me out of here? Because if that’s the case…” She gets up, hands slapping her thighs as she drops her arms. “I can leave, Peter.”</p>
<p>“I never want you to leave, MJ.”</p>
<p>“Then cut the bullshit,” she turns around, arms now crossed and eyes directly piercing into him. “I know you know I love you, Peter.”</p>
<p>“I know, and I love you, too. I really do,” he says, getting up slowly as he rests his hands on top of her arms, rubbing them slowly, bringing them down to her sides once again. “I just want you to know that you aren’t forced to stay. I’m not forcing you to stay.”</p>
<p>“I don’t feel forced,” she says. His hands reach for hers, fingers intertwining with a touch so safe that it leaves Peter to wonder why the hell he offers her an out when she clearly isn’t meant to leave. She doesn’t want to leave, and Peter knows this. He curses the guilt, the one that leaves the door ajar, the one that tricks him into believing MJ is standing there – that same look of worry and exhaustion in her face, ready to walk away. “Stop being so self-righteous.”</p>
<p>He blinks. “What?”</p>
<p>“You’re not the only one that can save the world. You’re not the only one that has that responsibility.” </p>
<p>“I know, but I still–”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she squeezes his hands. “But you aren’t. It’s not always your fault things go sour, and you can’t keep letting yourself believe that you’re alone in this world.”</p>
<p>“I don’t–”</p>
<p>“Yes, you do. And that’s why this,” she slips her hands away. “This isn’t fair. The way you’re acting. Ned’s in your life. May is in your life.”</p>
<p>She heads to their bedroom at a slow pace that he knows he needs to follow. He lingers behind her, a cautionary air between them as he closes their bedroom door with a soft click. </p>
<p>He says, “You’re in my life. You are my life, MJ.”</p>
<p>Peter hears another winded sigh. “You’re my life, too, Peter. Can’t you see?” </p>
<p>“I do.”</p>
<p>Her eyes are puffy. She’d avoided eye contact since they’d entered the apartment, Peter being afraid to watch her pain in real form, but knowing that even the personal strength MJ has can’t always carry on without being hurt. “Then why, after all this time, are you still pushing me away?” </p>
<p>A deep breath. He feels a lump in his throat as he swallows thickly, building himself up for the admission that should have been mentioned since day one. “All my life I’ve been alone.”</p>
<p>He sits next to her at the edge of the bed, looking out at the beat-down wall they wake up to every morning, cracks running down the middle that MJ tried to cover with canvases of her artwork – the career she decidedly shelved when she began to study law. Peter convinced her to do it, mentioning that it’s always okay to be happy with the past, even if things are different now. </p>
<p>One could argue things are very different for her now. But, as Peter tries to find the words to let everything out all at once, the comfort of her presence still gives him that same rush of excitement – the one from when they first met – pouring into him despite all of the baggage he’s dumped on her since then.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I had May,” he says. “Uncle Ben, before… But that’s it, Em. All the love I know is from them, and when Ben died, a part of me… forgot that. Forgot how to love with all my body, and all my body focused on was saving people.”</p>
<p>Saving people, in and of itself, is the way Peter loves. It’s the only way he knows how because buried underneath the surface of his soul is every single moment he’s fucked up this superhero gig starting with Uncle Ben.</p>
<p>“You don’t need to save me, Peter. I’m not your damsel in distress,” she scoffs.</p>
<p>She isn’t. She’s the one he comes home to, the one that patches him up and soaks up all the blood, scars, and hurt. “I know, MJ, but–”</p>
<p>“No more buts. Do you trust me?” she asks.</p>
<p>“More than myself.”</p>
<p>“Then trust me, Peter,” she grabs his hands again, twisting her body to face him as she tucks on foot underneath her thigh and into the mattress. “And if you trust me, then you have to trust yourself because… because I trust you, Peter.”</p>
<p>“With what?”</p>
<p>“With everything. With what you do. Your <em>responsibility</em>, even if it blinds you sometimes,” she scoots closer, pressing her forehead against his, whispering. “You know what you’re doing. And I support you. And I love you. I really do.”</p>
<p>One press of the lips on the top of his nose, and he relaxes his muscles. “I really love you, too.”</p>
<p>He leans in closer, their lips meeting – a soft, warm buzz floating in Peter’s stomach, fighting away the monsters he’d been so foolish to let in as if MJ wasn’t already standing underneath that doorway, battling them with her heart of gold. </p>
<p>She sniffles as he pulls away for a beat. He can hear the thrum of her heartbeat grow faster. She says, “I’m not leaving you.”</p>
<p>“MJ,” he breathes. “Thank you for everything.” He kisses her again, a quick one that leaves her leaning forward. “I need to make it up for you. Let me take care of you.”</p>
<p>“Peter,” she says, a tender light in her eyes as she smiles at him. </p>
<p>He kisses her temple. “The way you take care of me.” Her forehead. “I want you to know how I feel.” Her nose.</p>
<p>“Show me.” Her breath becomes rough, Peter leaning into her neck as she backs up toward the top of the mattress, lying flat on her back so he can hover over her, both of them now kissing each other with promise. His tongue slips into her mouth while he finds her hands slipping beneath his shirt, hiking it up to graze her fingers across his chest. </p>
<p>He shivers, breaking their lips apart so he can tug the entire shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the mess of their bedroom floor, too caught up in the taste of her mint lip balm and smell of faded perfume to care where the piece of clothing lands. When he looks back at her, he realizes she’s done the same thing, both their shirts lost.</p>
<p>He presses his chest against hers gently, looping his arms underneath her from either side of her body, sinking his hot open-mouthed kisses onto her skin.</p>
<p>“Peter,” she whispers. </p>
<p>“I’m gonna take care of you,” he repeats and repeats like a mantra someone staples in their heart every morning. He’ll wake up, full of love – a new love that’s patient, a new love that feels earned and grown. He’ll do this every day. “I will.” For all of his life, if she lets him. “I promise.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” He lifts his head from the crook of her neck as she continues, “Look at me.”</p>
<p>He does. All the time. Her dimples are subtle, but there. Her tooth sticks out quietly in between her lips. Her eyes are always tender, even when they’re angry. He sees the love in her, like he’s always had, ever since he saw her for the first time. </p>
<p>Peter takes one hand and presses it against her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the last of her tears. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. How could he ever be so lucky to exist in the same universe as Michelle Jones?</p>
<p>It’s incomprehensible to know how lucky he is to have her know him and love him, still love him every day, even when on the nights he witnesses at firsthand the heaviness on her chest when he comes home broken. He wishes he can feel the way she feels about him, just to know how to trust and love with such abandon – with such hope.</p>
<p>“Tonight’s all about you, Em,” he says before kissing her again, this deep surge of want building up from the pit of his stomach and into his chest. His tongue is quicker, moving against hers with delicate intensity, like he needs her lips to survive whatever hellbent rollercoaster he has in store for him next. </p>
<p>He brings his lips down to her chest, face in between her breasts planting wet kisses that trailer lower and lower onto her stomach as his hands follow close behind, tracing down her hips so that his fingers can slip beneath the band of her sweats. </p>
<p>He spares zero seconds, pulling down the fabric of clothing down, her underwear clinging onto it as she becomes bare in front of Peter – open and vulnerable as if they'll only ever need each other. Sometimes, he believes that to be true, that somehow in the midst of the chaos of the universe, in between every good and bad thing to ever happen to him, every single event led to MJ on purpose.</p>
<p>If Peter believed in soulmates, he'd believe in him and MJ.</p>
<p>He licks a stripe up her center, stopping at her clit, making tiny circles at it, feeling her legs tremble in a pleasure that arouses Peter, making it very difficult to keep his clothes on. Tonight is about MJ, he reminds himself, tongue gliding back down and burying deep into her as she moans and dives her hands into his hair, tugging it ever so softly to motivate him to keep going – as if he needed anything other than his unrestrained desire to pleasure MJ any chance he gets.</p>
<p>"Talk to me," she asks, her voice croaking and ragged breath filling the silent air with more need.</p>
<p>He mumbles into her, making her body vibrate as he kisses, "You. All of you. All the time. Forever."</p>
<p>"Peter," she moans. "Your tongue feels–ah–please. I need–"</p>
<p>Peter lifts his head up from between her legs, her juices dripping at the corner of his mouth. "What do you need, Em? Tell me and it's all yours. I'm all yours."</p>
<p>Something comes over him, Peter feeling the intensity in his own voice as he waits for her answer. A beat. "Your fingers. Let me fuck on your fingers."</p>
<p>A groan escapes his mouth as he continues to dive at her center, fingers now begging for entrance as she lifts her hips the moment he slides in for the first time, so drenched in wetness. The second time he pumps inside her, he places a second finger and feels himself ease in while he tongues at her clit.</p>
<p>Just the pure sound of ecstasy in her voice gives him goosebumps, feeling the hair on his arm rise and the tent in his pants grow. He wants to be inside her, but this is her night – again, he repeats like a lesson he swears he'll never forget. He wants to make her come more than once, he wants to please her in all the ways that he can and should.</p>
<p>"I–I think I'm close," her voice hitches as she slides up and down his fingers, Peter hearing the cacophony of whimpers and wetness as he pumps in with haste, letting his fingers linger there as he rubs at her g-spot. He starts sucking her, rubbing furiously with his goal of making her come being met as MJ bucks her hips upward, body shaking with her sweats still hanging around her legs. His eyes move up as he continues to ride out her orgasm with his mouth, seeing her hands grip her breasts as she yells his name.</p>
<p>"Wow," he says. "You look so beautiful coming like that because of me. Will you come again for me, MJ? Will you let me help you?"</p>
<p>"Peter," she says, her legs shimmying completely out of the sweats, completely naked. "You're wearing too many clothes."</p>
<p>"I just want to make you feel good," he says, pouting in the way he knows fondly annoys her.</p>
<p>"You'll make me feel good if you show me some ass," she quips. He lets out a loud laugh into the thick air of their bedroom, always forgetting to open the window, too caught up in the heat of the moment to care about the sweat that comes with it. He leans back, stepping away from the bed to shimmy out of his bottoms, followed by his boxer briefs.</p>
<p>"That's right," she winks, the teasing in her voice more carefree than earlier, though Peter can still feel the gentle air that she's been radiating all day. "Come here, tiger."</p>
<p>He climbs on the bed again, crawling to her, the desperate need to continue to please her, to listen to her moan with pleasure, to cement in the promise that he's made to himself: to unlearn the insecurities that are at the very foundation of his identity. </p>
<p>He'll unlearn those broken parts of himself, relearn what it means to love without the pressure of needing to save people, and – even if those broken parts continue to exist – he knows that there's someone in the universe that loves him better that way.</p>
<p>Their next kisses gently, MJ still cooling down from coming, the sweat falling from the edges of her face as Peter moves his lips all over her forehead, ending with one on the top of her hair. </p>
<p>“I’m so happy you love me,” he admits, one hand making its way to cup her face. “I’m so lucky, Em.”</p>
<p>“You are,” she agrees, smirking. </p>
<p>“And by the way,” he says, pressing his lips on hers again, “I’m not done taking care of you tonight.”</p>
<p>Her eyes widen with interest. He chuckles at the cute, puzzled look on her face – as if Peter ever stopped after one orgasm. A confession escapes his lips, using his free hand to hold hers and bring it between his legs as he says, “I want you to feel how hard I am.” She lets him fill her hand, closing on his cock as she pumps up and down slowly. The feel of her hand makes him shiver. Peter groans, “Look what you do to me.”</p>
<p>Her face is painted with wonder, with an awe that Peter can’t believe is for him – forever desiring what it feels like to love him, and if it feels the same way as loving MJ. He may never find out, those emotions locked in her heart with the key hidden within her soul. Though he may never know if he’ll get to turn the key, Peter knows that he will never stop trying. </p>
<p>He will never stop loving MJ, for as long as he lives. </p>
<p>Facing him, she sinks lower, dragging her lips down his chest as she sneaks under the blankets, licking a stripe up his length, Peter doing his best to hold still, gripping the pillow her head was just lying on. He can feel the wet, heat of her mouth surround him completely – a breathy moan escaping his lips as he curses her name – too distracted by the sensations before realizing he’d promised earlier that tonight was about her. </p>
<p>Every night should always be about her.</p>
<p>He lets his hands fall underneath the sheets, carefully placing it against her shoulders, tapping her as a sign to come up. She follows, inching her way back up to resurface from the covers, smiling as she wipes the corner of her mouth, Peter immediately surging forward for a kiss. Once he lets go he states, “I’m gonna make you come again.”</p>
<p>He feels her tense, then soften into a second kiss as their tongues collide again. Each kiss feels new – nothing like the first one, but more like a combination of every single moment they’ve shared: the initial butterflies, the burning desire of wanting one another, the inevitable arguments that allow them to learn more about one another, and the growing, expanding love that surrounds them as he grabs her waist and moves her above him.</p>
<p>“What are you gonna do down there?” she asks, teasing him for putting her on top.</p>
<p>“Just sit still, babe, let me,” he retaliates, pulling her closer to his body, wanting no air between their skin, wanting to feel her – all of her against him as he finally makes his way to her entrance, dragging himself along her wet center before bottoming out.</p>
<p>They sigh, a mix of relief and pleasure. He thrusts once, soft and slow, a signature move. He smirks as he watches her roll her eyes. The look is fond, full of symphony contrasted to the silence he felt piercing through him after the car ride home – even if this moment is a temporary resolve to the problems they have, the ones that keep growing. </p>
<p>But unlike the last three times, this is different. </p>
<p>Because this is all three times and now, an accumulation of the past mistakes and the new attempt to be better, to not be afraid of staying and what it means to never say goodbye. This is a build up to a bigger promise, a stronger promise that – despite fate losing his promises for him each time before – Peter won’t give this one up. </p>
<p>He’ll get back up. He’ll keep trying, not because he’s Spider-Man, but because she’s Michelle Jones. She’s his hero. </p>
<p>“Peter,” she pants, grinding her body down as he thrusts up, both of them meeting each other in the middle as his thrusts go faster and deeper, with more determination to hear that croak in her voice that comes before she’s pushed over the edge. “Harder.”</p>
<p>He listens, using the hold he has on her hips to help hold her down as he bucks into her, watching her lean her head back in pure euphoria, looking beyond the confines of their ceiling and into a celestial universe. She whimpers, curses of his name and how she feels, her body shaking. </p>
<p>MJ’s hands travel against her own skin, squeezing her breasts as Peter watches in complete adoration like even though she’s staring at heaven, he’s looking at an angel. “You’re beautiful, Em. Do you know that?”</p>
<p>She whimpers, shutting her eyes as Peter spits words into the air about her as he pumps into her, something about this moment feels different. New. A reset. </p>
<p>When she opens her eyes, he’s looking right at her. Their gaze meets and she bites her lips, one particular thrust lighting her eyes. He slows down, letting her lay forward on top of him, so they can kiss. As she pulls her lips away she says, “I want to look at you.”</p>
<p>His heart jumps, feeling the tears well up in the corner of his eyes while he finds his rhythm once again. “MJ, I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you, too,” she whispers, burying her head on his neck while squeezing herself around his length giving him the boost of energy that holds him back from finishing before her. Tonight’s all about her because she shouldn’t have to make her entire life all about him. She nibbles on his ears as she breathes, “I’m close, Peter, please.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” he grunts, pushing into her as she continues to suck on his neck, Peter being certain that there’ll be marks there tonight. “Come for me, darling.”</p>
<p>Her second orgasm is different – not an explosion of tension but a spark of light, electrifying Peter’s body as he peaks, pulling out of her quickly enough for her to scrambling and take him in her mouth, bobbing up and down rapidly as finishes. He pushes his head against the pillow as she works him even after his high, certain she’ll go straight into building him up again if she keeps going.</p>
<p>“MJ,” he laughs, a throaty thing. She finally lifts herself up, looking at him with fierce eyes as she swallows before crawling into his arms. </p>
<p>They both sigh, their breaths still catching up with one another. He sniffs the top of her head, the smell of her making him calm. He says, “You should pee.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she agrees, snuggling closer against his body, their limbs lazily tangled with one another. “I will soon. I know I have to, but…” A beat. “I just need this. For now.”</p>
<p>His stomach flutters, his chest tightens, and a smile flashes across his face because he agrees. Their problems may not be resolved, and they both know there's work that needs to be done but at least, in this little slice of their inexplicable, unique life... </p>
<p>This moment is what they need.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>@spideysmjs on Tumblr &amp; Twitter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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